This must be the end

I’m finally querying The Ice Coffin, which must mean I found a way to stop writing it. I always thought I would never find the end. Not the ending of the story, but a way to stop revising and tinkering.

It’s like those people who say in hindsight, “I knew right away that he was the man I was going to marry.” First of all, bullshit. Second, we can’t “know” these things. It’s only after the fact that we recognize what really happened.

In my case, I finished a draft and knew that there was no more I could do with it without an editor, and I was happy with where it was. But when I started that draft (number eight in my case), the latest in a very long process, I didn’t know what I would know.

So, my advice to other long-slogging writers is to trust that you will recognize this point when you get to it. Try not to rush it. I hope you reach it sooner than I did. It’s a joy when you get there. I’m done (for now).